


What is Lost

by pherryt



Series: Star Trek Bingo [9]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek AOS, Star Trek Enterprise
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Mind bond, Support
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 11:33:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17527961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt
Summary: An unexpected call with what shouldn't be quite so unexpected news knocks Nyota for a loop - but Spock is there to pick her back up.





	What is Lost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThayerKerbasy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThayerKerbasy/gifts).



> For the Boldly Bingo - The square is Nyota/Spock: Hurt/Comfort  
> it was picked randomly by ThayerKerbasy
> 
> ABOUT the Major Character Death tag - it's not anyone from AOS and it's an off screen death, natural causes (aka extreme old age - hey, if Archer can still be alive in the first AOS movie, then so can others of his bridge crew right? Fairly certain there's no surprise here who is going to die if you're reading tags/looking at the banner...)
> 
> i had to completely draw in the top of Spocks head to complete this banner lol...

The call came through on Nyota’s shift. It wasn’t a live call, and she could have easily saved it for later, but when she saw who it was from, her fingers paused for the briefest of seconds before continuing to automatically forward the other incoming messages to the appropriate channels and quarters.

It was a personal call.

From Admiral Archer.

Turning, she glanced at Kirk, the boy she’d judged so harshly when they first met had really come into his own as a captain. She still gave him a hard time, though, but it wasn’t the same anymore. There was an unspoken truce between them now, a mutual respect that had been earned through _several_ trials by fire.

In fact, the entire Senior Bridge crew were a close-knit unit, and it showed on missions and their many successes. She weighed the situation quickly in her head before making a decision. It would bother her immensely if she had to wait all shift to find out why the Admiral had messaged  _her._

Stepping up from her seat, she walked to the captain’s chair so she could talk discretely. She could feel Spocks curious eyes on her before he turned back to his own tasks, respecting and giving her the privacy others on the bridge might not.

“Captain – I have a personal call that came in – do you mind if I take a few moments to answer it?”

Jim looked at her calculatingly, his eyebrow raised before he nodded.

“Of course, Lieutenant. Everything’s under control here. I’ll have Ensign Braxx monitor your station in the meantime.”

“Thank you, captain.” Nyota smiled, small, but enough to convey her gratitude, before turning briskly on her heel and making for the private alcove set aside on the bridge for just such an occasion.

Once the door was sealed behind her, her fingers flew over the console, calling up the canned message.

Admiral Archer’s face appeared on the screen, wrinkled, somber and so incredibly tired looking that Nyota knew it had to be bad news. She’d never even spoken to Archer in more than passing, as their paths had crossed thanks to a mutual friend of theirs, so there was no reason for him to have commed her.

Yet here they were.

Her nerves a jangle, she pressed play and Admiral Archer unfroze. “Lieutenant. It is with deepest regret that I inform you of the passing of a wonderful,  _amazing_  woman – your mentor and my friend - Hoshi Sato.”

Nyota gasped, covering her mouth though no one could even hear her in here, her eyes going wide.

“She passed away, peacefully in her sleep. Not many yet know - she didn’t have much family left, and most of her friends have already passed on as well. But she was a close friend of mine, and I know she considered you a close friend as well. After we’ve…” He paused and cleared his throat and she could feel the lump forming in hers as well. “After we’ve notified everyone that was important to her, they’ll be making her death public. Her loss is immeasurable – both to the fleet, to the Federation and to us.”

He paused again and she wasn’t sure, with tears welling up in her own eyes, but she thought his eyes were shining wet. Nyota knew that Hoshi and Archer had had a very long friendship. If  _she_ was saddened so much by the loss of Hoshi, he must be devastated.

As if to echo her thoughts, he said gruffly, “She will be missed.”

There was more silence and she forced herself to look at the screen again, wiping at her eyes. His eyes were closed and in that moment, she could see every year he’d aged on his face, in his demeanor. He took a breath, straightened and opened his eyes once more.

“I wanted to tell you, that her communications with you were one of her greatest joys these past few years. Through her, I almost feel like I know  _you_. And I wanted to thank you for making her final years so rich. There are some things she wanted you to have, I’ll have them sent along shortly.” He leaned forward, his voice choking, unable to keep the grief in much longer – how many had he lost in his long life? “I know they can’t replace her, but I hope they bring a smile to your face as you remember happier times. Archer out.”

The screen went black and Nyota stared at it for a long time, trying to process the news, to stop the flood of tears that wanted to burst free, to swallow past the lump in her throat.

Hoshi had been much more than a mentor to her. She’d been both advisor and confidant and, dare she say, a friend. The lady had been a legend in her time and still was. Hoshi had seen Nyota’s gift and taken her under her wing, encouraging to spread her own, and then recommended her for the highest, most difficult communications classes there were.

That was how Nyota and Spock had met.

As if thinking his name had summoned him – with their bond, it might have – the door beeped to warn her of incoming, a presence touching her mind lightly to tell her who, and the door slid open at her silent assent.

He stepped inside, the door closing behind him and he took her in his arms. She tried, she tried so hard not to break, to sob, to make him uncomfortable with an emotional outburst, but he pressed her warmly into his body and whispered words of love and support in Vulcan, knowing she would understand, and she clutched at him as she broke down.

“Nyota, what’s wrong?” he asked, concern flowing lightly through their bond though his voice remained even.

“It’s…” she stopped and shook her head. “A good friend and mentor of mine – I just discovered that she’s… she’s gone.” Her voice choked around the words but she pushed them out anyway. “It’s not like it’s a huge surprise. She was old, her life long and these last years were wearing on her but still…”

“Unexpected or not, the death of a loved one still hurts,” Spock said understandingly. So understanding that the tears broke, running down her face.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed out, trying to regain her control.

“Do not apologize, t'nash-veh ashaya. Grief is a natural thing, and must oft times be expressed in some manner, preferably of your choosing, else you regret it later. Do not feel you must refrain yourself on my account,” Spock said.

He soothed a hand over her long hair and hummed. It was almost familiar, the tune, nagging at her shocked and grief-stricken mind. Wherever it came from, it eased her somewhat.

“That song,” she said, sniffing, looking for any distraction she could find and latching on to the familiarity of it. She pulled back, wiping at her eyes before she continued. “I think I’ve heard it before, but I can’t recall where.”

“Your ears are very sharp, as always,” Spock said proudly. “I should have known you had heard that, though I took pains not to disturb you.” He paused, a flicker of emotion – of sadness – flitting over his face so quickly that she didn’t think anyone who didn’t know him as well as she did would have noticed. Or anyone who didn’t have the bond they had, as the emotion tickled at the edge of her mind, mingling with her own sadness. “It was something my mother used to sing to me when I was… distressed as a child. A comfort,” he said softly.

And that’s when it clicked. Her eyes widened, welling with tears once more. She felt worse for not remembering it sooner. When Spocks mother died, he’d had nightmares, more than once, and sometimes more than Nyota had been able to help with, though she’d tried.

Those times, he’d meditated, and once or twice she’d heard a recording playing very, very softly, pitched for Vulcan ears, but Nyota’s were as sharp as he’d said and she’d caught the fringe of it.

She’d let it go, giving Spock the privacy he’d obviously wished for at the time.

“Thank you,” she whispered, understanding what it cost him to share the tune, something so personal, so full of grief and the guilt that was never far from his mind.

“Do you wish to request leave from the bridge? I’m sure the captain would grant the request under these circumstances.”

She shook her head, looking down at her hands that still clutched Spocks uniform. Unclenching her fingers and swallowing, she smoothed down the wrinkles in his shirt.

“I’ll be all right,” she said with a sad smile. “I just… just need a few more minutes.”

“Of course,” he acknowledged. He started to pull away and her hands jerked upward to grasp his arms again, pull him back, make him stay and she forced herself to drop them to her side before she could.

He stopped and stepped forward again, taking her in his arms.

“Did I not tell you,  _not_ to hold back on my account? If you need me, Nyota, I  _am_  here for you, always,” he said, the sincerity as plain as day, written both on his face and in his words, as well as edging across the bond. “A pain that is shared is pain that is easier to bear. You were the one that taught me that, and I would do all I can to make it easier for you.”

She laughed wetly. “I don’t think I was much help to you, and besides, my… my pain can’t even compare to yours.”

“That does not matter. Emotion is illogical. It cares not about the scope of the loss. Grief is grief, and as you helped me – which you most definitely did, I assure you – so, too, do I wish to help you. Are we not a couple that shares joys  _and_ pain?” Spock asked. She nodded, eyes tearing up once more at his words. “Then all that remains is that you tell me what I can do to best alleviate this pain?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Just… hold me?”

“Of course,” he said once more. There was no hesitation in his movement, no stiffness in his arms – well used to the act of embracing, though once it had been an awkward thing between them - as he pulled her close, tucking her head under his. He hummed once more – never sang the words, just hummed – and Nyota let it sooth her till she felt ready to face the rest of the bridge crew once more, her composure returning enough that she was confident she could finish her shift.

It helped that she knew that she was not alone, that she had Spocks quiet support and that he would be but a mind touch away. A few more moments passed as she took deep, calming breaths, breathing in Spock, the storm of her mind calming at the light touches of his own, though he never invaded.

Finally, she pulled away, wiping at her eyes and straightening first her uniform, then his. She laid a hand over his sternum – where the human heart would be, but not his – and looked up into his eyes.

“Thank you,” she said. “I think I’m ready now.”

“I will be at your side if you want me,” he said.

“I know,” she answered softly, giving him a slight smile. Though it was small, she put as much love and gratitude as she could into it, into their bond.

He half turned, palming the door lock. It slid open and he stepped through, turning back again to check on her.

“I’m coming, Spock,” she said.

He nodded, returning to his station amidst curious looks but a blessedly silent crew. They allowed her her privacy, though the captain stood as soon as they returned. He crossed the bridge, meeting her at her station and spoke low.

“Is everything all right?” Jim asked.

She took a breath. “I will be,” she said, glancing at Spock to steady herself.

“If there’s anything I can do to help – “ Jim started.

“Captain, I would tell you if there was. Thank you.”

He glanced between Spock and Nyota, then nodded, backing off. “See that you do. Anything at all.”

Nyota smiled after him as he returned to his command chair. As she pivoted to return to her own station, she caught the eyes of several other crew – even Dr. McCoy had arrived at some point, there probably to heckle the captain about a physical or whatever other excuse he’d manufactured to come up to the bridge this time – and each one gave her a silent nod.

They didn’t know what was going on, but all of them were quite ready to pledge whatever support she needed.

Just knowing that helped steady her throughout the rest of her shift.

She could get through this.

A steady influx of warmth and love filled her from Spock, easing gently over the bond though it might look to others as if he was buried in his work. She knew he wasn’t, that he was keeping an ear on her for any sign that she needed him. Nyota slid into her seat, placing her earpiece on once more and set to work.

She _would_ get through this, and life would move on as it always did. But she didn’t have to do it alone, and she wouldn’t.

They’d do it together.

**Author's Note:**

> t'nash-veh ashaya = my love  
> (according to an english/vulcan translater AND a Vulcan Dictionary. My was exactly unchanged, love was slightly different through the dictionary.)


End file.
